When In Doubt, Sing!
by tiggersrock
Summary: Moulin Rouge spoof. apologies to Alex's and other bad-haired peeps. R&R anyway, lots of random oddness! Chapter Five now up!
1. Characters

WHEN IN DOUBT, SING  
  
I love Moulin Rouge, let's get that clear first. Great movie, etc. etc. But it needs to be laughed at like JLo needs to be dressed by forty different stylists. So, in conclusion, no lawsuits please. Etc. Etc.  
  
CHARACTERS  
  
Satine - The Crazy Crack Whore - known to customers as the Diamond Geezer.  
  
Christian - The Desperate Virgin - 25 and still desperate. Is it surprising with a chin shaped like an arse and a Large Spot? (If you watch the movie, see his forehead!!!)  
  
Toulouse - The Pissed Dwarf - Also known as "Look, I'm Short! No, Really!" (but only in moments of intense sarcasm)  
  
Zidler - The Moulin ROUGE - also known as Bad Moustache Guy.  
  
Duke - Alex - Frog hater. Called Alex because all Alex's have bad hair. The duke has bad hair. Ergo, he must be an Alex.  
  
NiNi - The Dog - The rest of them are the Diamond Dogs. NiNi is the Dog.  
  
Marie - Betty-as-a-whore - See Emmerdale.  
  
Argentinean - Talent for Tango - See comments combined with 'odd' placings of hands.  
  
And many more minor characters. 


	2. There was a Virgin

Chapter One  
  
"There was a virgin A very strange and desperate virgin Even older than me At twenty five Also known as a DV Then one day One magic day he passed my way He spoke to me of many things Whores and rings And then one day he said to me The greatest thing you'll ever do Is have sex that won't cost you"  
  
Christian raised his unshaven head (he had to conceal that arse-chin somehow, didn't he?!) off his arms and began to type. He spoke aloud the words as he wrote them. "The Moulin Rouge."  
  
" A nightclub." He thought about this. "A whorehouse. Ruled over by a scary dude in a bad moustache and too much makeup." He paused again. "A kingdom of hot sex, where the dirty old men came to feel up the young and slutty prostitutes." He sighed and picked a little at the large spot in the centre of his forehead before continuing. "The most beautiful of all these was the one I paid. Satine. A crazy crack whore, she sold hot sex to men. They called her." He wiped a tear from his eye. ".the Diamond Geezer." Smiling in remembrance, he typed, "And she was the star of the Moulin Rouge. The crazy crack whore I loved is." Weeping, he looked out of the window. ".dead."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"I first came to Paris one year ago. It was 1899, the summer of love. I mean 1967. I mean." Christian became increasingly confused. "I knew nothing of sex, whores, or incidentally Harold Zidler. The world had been swept up in the Bohemian revolution and I had travelled from London to be an expert in sex. I mean.a part of it."  
  
Christian looked at the green fairy ruefully. She smiled at him. "You go on love. Don't mind me." She swigged some more Absinthe.  
  
"There was a village on a hill called Montmartre. It was as my father had said, 'A village of SIN!' but I had to go anyway. He scared the crap outta me."  
  
Christian was sure there was something not quite right about this. He thought being truthful was all very well, but you should be allowed to be a little bit of a liar. Call it artistic licence. He looked again at the green fairy. She nodded encouragingly. "Quite right, love."  
  
"Yes," Christian continued, getting into his stride. "I had come to live a penniless existence. I had come to write about Truth, Beauty, Freedom, Love, and that which I believed in above all things, concealer. But there was a problem - I had never been in love - DV, remember?" Christian smiled in remembrance at the good times.  
  
"Luckily, at that point an unconscious Argentinean named Argy fell through my roof. He was quickly joined by a man on his knees with a pair of tights on his head."  
  
Christian let himself be taken slowly back to the good old days, when he was a virgin with a visible chin-arse and no concealer.  
  
~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~  
  
"How do you do?" smiled the dwarf. "My name is." Christian heard a lot of gobbledygook. The only word he heard clearly was Toulouse. "I'm terribly sorry about all this. We're just upstairs taking part in a live sex show.um. I mean, rehearsing a play."  
  
"What?" Christian looked naively confused.  
  
He learnt from the dwarf it was a play, surprisingly enough, and it was called Craptacular Craptacular.  
  
"It's set in Sheffield," lisped Toulouse annoyingly, waggling his tights with enthusiasm.  
  
He also learnt that Argy suffered from narcolepsy.  
  
"Fine one minute then - crashing through the floor the next!" Toulouse flirted grotesquely.  
  
Suddenly, three terrifying faces appeared through the large hole in Christian's ceiling.  
  
"How is he?" asked the middle one. Christian was about to reply "Fine, no thanks to you," when he realised it wasn't aimed at him.  
  
"Oh, wonderful, so the narcoleptic Argentinean is unconscious and therefore the scenario will not be finished in time to present to the financier tomorrow!" The middle apparition explained everything that had happened in the plot so far and also prepared the rest of the movie.  
  
And THAT, kids, is a useful character.  
  
"Yes, Toulouse, I still have to finish the music," whispered a softly- spoken bald dude whose head was shaped oddly like a light bulb.  
  
"We'll just have to find someone to read the part," Toulouse smiled toothily, scaring the hell outta Christian.  
  
"And where in heaven's name are we going to find someone to read the part of a young sensitive Sheffieldian poet fork manufacturer?" cried Audrey, deaf to Christian's increasingly frantic cries of "Pick me! Pick me!" Upstairs, they began.  
  
"The factories animate with euphonious symphonies of knife melodies!" pranced Toulouse, tunelessly.  
  
"Stop that insufferable droning!" shrieked Audrey, voicing Christian's thoughts with scary accuracy.  
  
Everyone began arguing over the words. Christian felt incredibly small. No one would listen to his brilliant idea!  
  
"Well," he said to himself, "my personal motto is - when in doubt, SING!"  
  
So he burst into song, raising his angelic DV face to the heavens. "There's a worm at the bottom of the garden, and his name is Wiggly Woo!" The Bohemians fell silent in awe.  
  
Argy was the first to speak. Leaping up, he cried, "There's a worm at the bottom of the garden.I love it!"  
  
Christian smiled at the praise. "And he wiggles all night and day!" he sang, leaning off the ladder gesticulating. A little too far.CRASH!  
  
He got up hurriedly, and, rubbing his bruised nose, climbed back onto the ladder hoping no-one had noticed.  
  
"Mmm, candy floss," mumbled Toulouse. (A/N: I don't actually know what he says here, but that is what it sounds like!) "You should write the show with Audrey."  
  
"Excuse me?!" s/he said. Then. "Goodbye!" s/he slammed the door as s/he left.  
  
"PMS," explained Toulouse. "Have some green crap," he added, raising his glass.  
  
"Zidler won't agree," whispered Bulbhead. "Have you ever written anything like this before?"  
  
"No!" Christian said. Singing for praise was one thing, but a whole show?!  
  
"He has talent!" Argy walked over and put his hand on a VERY inappropriate place. "I like him." He realised exactly where his hand was. "Nothing funny, I just like talent."  
  
Christian sighed with relief as Argy removed his hand, though actually it did not feel too bad.  
  
~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~  
  
"Hmm." Christian paused as he re-read the last few lines. He was sure he was alienating female readers with the part about it feeling OK. He added two more words. "DV, remember."  
  
Much better.  
  
"Toulouse even had a plan for convincing Zidler. I should be passed off as an English writer and perform my poetry for Satine."  
  
"But I kept hearing my father's voice in my head: 'You'll end up wasting your life at the Moulin Rouge with a crazy crack whore!"  
  
~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~  
  
"I can't write the show for the Moulin Rouge!" Christian dived for safety, clinging tightly onto the ladder. He no longer trusted ladders.  
  
"Why not?" asked the Bohemians, crowding him. He panicked.  
  
"I.I don't even know if I am a true Bohemian revolutionary. I mean.look at my spot.tis unconcealered!" he confessed.  
  
There was general alarm.  
  
"It can be overlooked, if.Do you believe in beauty?" Toulouse demanded.  
  
"Phwoar.yeah!" Christian replied nervously.  
  
"Freedom?"  
  
"Well, duh!"  
  
"Truth?"  
  
"Except white lies."  
  
"Love?"  
  
"Love!" Christian's DV face smiled, DV-ishly. "Above all things I believe in love. Love is like mummy oranges and daddy oranges having baby tangerines! Love is a many-clothed thing - unless your lover is naked, of course. Love lifts us up where we belong, kinda like pot.all you need is love!" He paused. "And pot."  
  
Toulouse grinned. "We'll get you some concealer."  
  
~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~  
  
The green fairy hiccupped, disgruntled. "You left me out!"  
  
"Sorry, m'dear," Christian apologised, downing a glass of Pastiche. "It's only PG-13."  
  
A/N: Well?! Whaddya think of the first chapter?! It probably will stick closer to the actual plot in some points than in others. But I'm especially proud of the songs *g* Also, if you know any Alex's with bad hair, please mention it in a review. I really want to see if my theory fits. 


	3. At the Moulin Rouge You'll Get Laid

Chapter Two  
  
"Harold Zidler," typed Christian, "and his infamous hookers. The Diamond Dogs."  
  
~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~  
  
They entered the hall to loud music. Zidler began to sing.  
  
"If you are a DV  
And you've never yet met me  
Or had sex for cash or free  
I've just the whore for you  
And though boasting's for fools  
At the Moulin Rouge, you'll get laid!  
So scratch that evil itch  
Get yourself a bitch  
For money you can  
Feel Lady Marmalade  
  
Because we can can-can  
But you can't, can't, can't  
So heeheehee!"  
  
The men began to sing.  
"Here we are now  
Come sleep with us  
We are horny  
And prosperous!"  
  
Zidler continued, evil in his clown-style makeup.  
  
"If you've got some dark secret  
You've never yet had 'it'  
You can do it here  
There's nothing to fear!  
Because we can can-can  
But you can't can't can't  
So heeheehee  
We can cancan!  
Outside you may be minging  
But in here you're simply blinging!  
If you love love love  
To get laid laid laid  
We are yours if you have paid!  
Because we can cancan  
But you can't can't can't  
So heeheehee!  
Outside you may be tragic  
But in here we think you're magic!"  
  
Here followed many choruses of "Because we can cancan!" until eventually Christian could take no more and hollered, "Because it's good to get laid!" before the Bohemians could drag him to a table.  
  
"We successfully evaded Zidler," whispered Toulouse.  
  
Suddenly silence fell. A silver spotlight appeared. Silver glitter fell from the ceiling. The dirty old men looked up and yelled as the glitter fell, stinging into their eyes.  
  
A woman slowly descended form the ceiling on a trapeze.  
  
"It's her!" Toulouse hissed piercingly. "the Diamond Geezer!"  
  
~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~  
  
Christian's hand shook as he typed, although that could have been because the green fairy had just hiccupped right next to his ear. "But someone else was to sleep with Satine that night. Zidler's investor." He paused dramatically. In the ensuing silence, the fairy burped. He glared at her. "The Duke."  
  
~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~  
  
As Satine sang, Christian drooled. Every desperate virgin needs a crazy crack whore, and he had just found his.  
  
He was blissfully unaware of the exchange taking place between Satine and Zidler on his left.  
  
"Is the Duke here, Harold?" asked Satine, waving an odd piece of random material for no apparent reason.  
  
"My little German darling, would Daddy let you down?" smeared Zidler.  
  
Toulouse had just, in fact, spilt his drink all over said Duke. "Tewibly sowwy!" he lisped, shaking a handkerchief erratically.  
  
"Where is he?" Satine questioned Harold, dancing around him in a random manner.  
  
"He's the one Toulouse is shaking his, um."  
  
"Harold!" Satine said, shocked. "This is PG-13!"  
  
".hanky at. Why, darling, did you think I was going to say something else?"  
  
Satine glared to where Toulouse had, of course, begun for some odd reason to shake a hanky at Christian in a vaguely threatening manner.  
  
"Are you sure? He looks awfully like an alcoholic, impoverished, strange dude with only one name." She paused for a second. "Oh."  
  
"That's the one, main hummus ingredient," Zidler oozed. "I just hope that demonic man on his knees I wasn't supposed to see arrive doesn't scare his moustache away."  
  
Satine and Zidler ducked behind several headless can-can dancers' skirts to get changed.  
  
"Will he invest?" Satine asked eagerly.  
  
"Bird classed as vermin!" Harold replied. "After spending the night with you, how could he do that?"  
  
"What's his type?" asked Satine. "Shy first-time prostitute, cheap hooker, or crazy crack whore?" Each one had a different random sound effect.  
  
"I'd say.cheap hooker." Zidler smiled. "We're all relying on you, young honking animal! Remember, a real toaster, with real bread, and you'll have."  
  
".*real butter*." Satine sighed before jumping out of the skirts and singing the final lines of her song whilst shimmying over to Christian.  
  
"I believe you were expecting to sleep with me?" she asked.  
  
"Yes.yes." he muttered in his DV-ish way.  
  
"I'm afraid it's hooker's choice!" she said, reaching out an arm to him.  
  
Suddenly, her thong went a little too far. She squealed and waved her dress from side to side trying to dislodge it, but to no avail. Desperately, she moved backwards until she managed to dislodge it with no-one but Christian noticing.  
  
They began to dance, Satine squealing randomly at odd intervals and Christian moving slowly round in a doped up kinda way.  
  
Various people made random comments.  
  
"It's so nice of you to take an interest in our little show," Satine said.  
  
"I'd be delighted to be involved, assuming you like my poetry of course," Christian replied. He had no trouble at all dancing to something he didn't know whilst having a conversation with a crazy crack whore.  
  
"I'm sure I will," Satine answered in a seductive way.  
  
"Toulouse thought we might be able to do it in private," Christian added.  
  
"Did he," Satine said, wondering what business it was of the pissed dwarf anyway.  
  
"Yes, although you know I normally have more than one person at a time, even whole audiences sometimes, but then I need preparations and I prefer to do just what feels right."  
  
"Oh, I love a little poetry after supper. Or before breakfast, after breakfast, before lunch.any time of day really." She left, laughing in a way that made Christian feel there was an alternative meaning he wasn't quite getting.  
  
Sometimes random instincts are spot on.  
  
"Hang on to your hats!" she yelled, kicking a leg. Everyone in the hall immediately threw their hats in the air.  
  
*You would've thought they'd've got it by now,* Satine thought. *Hang on to your hats means just that.*  
  
She began to sing again, then on the final word, despite having shown no symptoms beforehand, she fell, to be caught by the one person who bothered to step forward and actually try to catch the star of the Moulin Rouge.  
  
Jealousy among prostitutes is not a good thing.  
  
The men began to cry "Pizza, pizza!" (Well, after all that dancing, they were hungry.)  
  
"Don't know that Duke's gonna get his money's worth tonight," said NiNi, the Dog Whore.  
  
"I know, she's proper out of it, the little bitch," FatWhore replied.  
  
"You frightened her away." Zidler oozed to the men in the other room. "But there are lots more hookers!" Music began to play.  
  
"That's OK, then!" Christian leapt up and began to dance. Badly.  
  
In the other room, BettyWhore came in to examine Satine. She shook something smelly under her nose to wake her up. It just happened to be Zidler's jacket.  
  
"Oh, BettyWhore." mumbled Satine, thoroughly revolted. "Oh, these crappy costumes."  
  
There was a random conversation between BettyWhore and an odd red-faced man.  
  
Satine coughed up some blood, managing beyond the realms of modern dentistry not to stain her teeth.  
  
A/N: Because everyone knows blood stains teeth, right? (Psychopathic smile)  
  
Anyway, thanks y'all for reading the first chappie, and all you kind reviewy peeps, thank you even more!  
  
This ones a little odd, with excessive use of the word random. But then I did spend half an hour today listening to a lad I know singing "I could flirt with all the guys, smile at them and bat my eyes."  
  
Its just been one of those days.  
  
Anyway, reviews are welcome : ) Also, keep up the "Do You Know A Bad-Haired Alex?" campaign. Everyone knows at least one, I'm sure of it.  
  
Oh yeah, I apologise to all Alexs. Sorry, y'all. But if your hairdresser is mysteriously booked up every time you want to make an appointment, now you know why. 


	4. Your Bong

A/N: We interrupt this spoof to reveal.the writer has today confessed she got thus far without writing a disclaimer! She shall be publicly flogged unless she writes one today.  
  
Disclaimer: I am writing this under (Gulp *click of gun*) my own free will.I don't own Moulin Rouge. Or Satine. Or Christian. Or the Duke. Or Zidler. Or BettyWhore. Or DogWhore. Or FatWhore. Or the Dude Who Plays The Tambourine At The End Of The Movie.  
  
However, when I take over the world, I WILL own all these and more!!! MWAHAHAHAHA! (Except the Dude Who Plays The Tambourine At The End Of The Movie. My friend wants him.)  
  
Anyway.the show must go on.or the spoof must go on, I s'pose. Oh yeah, this chapter was written under the influence of several late nights. Damn sleep, who needs it? We have caffeine for that sort of thing!!  
  
Chapter Three  
  
Christian was stroking his inappropriately-placed hat in the heart of the hippopotamus whilst waiting for Satine.  
  
"Unbelievable!" cried Toulouse from below, "straight to the hippo!"  
  
"It's a wonderful place for a poetry reading, isn't it?" said a voice behind Christian, making him whirl round. She was dressed in a leather print mini-shirt and short top complete with thigh high boots.  
  
"It's just a cheap hooker outfit, but yeah, OK, looks alright to me," said Christian, drooling at the crazy crack whore.  
  
"A little supper, champagne, cocaine?"  
  
"I'd rather just do it!" Christian blurted, feeling sick.  
  
"Very well," Satine replied, annoyed. She beckoned to the bed. "Let's do it."  
  
"I'd rather do it, um, standing - and maybe outside, too - I get claustrophobic. You, um, don't have to be stood up.it's quite shocking and I wouldn't like you to feel faint."  
  
"I'm sure I will." She lay on the couch making random noises.  
  
Christian left out. He turned round to make some of his own.  
  
"Is everything all right?" she asked, bored.  
  
"Well, I'm very nervous. You see everything depends on this meeting. If you tell Zidler I was good then he'll want to meet me too."  
  
Satine was now slightly alarmed, so going back to what she did best she began to touch him in inappropriate places and moan things.  
  
Christian struggled to get up. "I've changed my mind. Let's smoke some weed!" he produced a pocket-sized bong.  
  
"Nice bong," said Satine, still moaning occasionally.  
  
"You can have it.just let me get up!" He presented it to her.  
  
"Really?" she asked, shocked.  
  
"Of course." He started to sing.  
  
"My gift is my bong And this one's for you And you can't tell anybody That this is your bong It may be quite useful so Now that it's done I hope you don't mind I hope you don't mind That I used it before Or that my friend dropped it On an unclean floor!  
  
Well I sat on the couch And I kicked off the dog And some of these matches Well they got me quite cross But my lighter's been kind While I wrote this song It's for people like you, girl Who keep me turned on So excuse me forgetting But this crap I smoke You see I've forgotten If it's weed or it's coke Anyway the thing is I gave it to you Now I'm hoping you will Give 'it' to me too  
  
And you can't tell anybody That this is your bong It maybe quite useful so Now that it's done I hope you don't mind I hope you don't mind That I used it before Or that my friend dropped it On an unclean floor!"  
  
"I don't believe it." Satine whispered, "I'm in love! A cheap hooker in love with a rich Duke!"  
  
"Duke?!" whispered Christian.  
  
"Not that the title, wads of cash or fact you are investing in our play has anything to do with it of course."  
  
"I'm not a duke."  
  
Satine leaned back in horror. "Not a Duke?"  
  
"I'm a writer!" Christian grinned naively.  
  
"A writer?!" Satine gasped in horror.  
  
"Toulouse." Christian said questioningly.  
  
"Oh no! You're not another of Toulouse's oh-so-innocent, charmingly DV-ish, tragically desperate dudes are you?"  
  
"Well, I might say that," Christian replied, Not Really Getting It.  
  
"Oh no! The Duke!" she opened the door, found the Duke outside, and leant back against the door doing a decent impression of a rabid turtle. "The Duke!"  
  
"Vat ees zees Duke of vich you are speeking now?" asked Christian. She won't be able to resist my charmingly foreign accent, he thought to himself.  
  
"The Duke!" She leapt over him and shoved his head up her skirt.  
  
Christian smiled. The accent always works, he thought smugly. 


	5. Your Bong part Two

Chapter Four  
  
A/N: Bonjour y'all, sorry its been so long! I've got exams coming up so I've been studying like a good little girl and also I had lots of trouble with my DVD player cause it kept breaking!  
  
Anyway, thanks for ye great reviewy-thingys, they cheered me up whilst I was revising quadratic equations!!! (Anything that does that is more than welcome, believe me!)  
  
ANYWAYS, here be chapter four. Oh yeah, and carry on with your "Do you know a bad-haired Alex?" campaign! Also, if you are an Alex and you believe your hair is good, feel free to tell me what style its in.I'll judge for myself if you're the exception.  
  
WHEN WE LAST LEFT OUR HEROES/ HEROINES/ DVS AND CCWS:  
  
Satine had just discovered Christian was not the alcoholic aristocrat she thought.  
  
"Vat ees zees Duke of vich you are speeking now?" asked Christian. She won't be able to resist my charmingly foreign accent, he thought to himself.  
  
"The Duke!" She leapt over him and shoved his head up her skirt.  
  
Christian smiled. The accent always works, he thought smugly.  
  
Zidler came in looking scarily like a red-headed penguin. "My dear, are you undressed for the Duke?" he asked. "Where were you?"  
  
Satine gave Christian a sharp bash in the nose with one thigh, causing him to retreat behind her, tending his wounded nose. "Try anything and I'll kill you," she hissed, before turning her attention back to Zidler. "Waiting.all on my own.in this hippo.without any writers."  
  
The Duke came in.  
  
"Mmm, monsieur," Satine smiled. "how wonderful of you to take time out of your busy schedule to sleep with me!"  
  
Christian ducked behind the table with a noise not unlike that of Bugs Bunny fast retreating into his burrow.  
  
"I fear the pleasure may be entirely mine," the Duke said, kissing Satine's hand.  
  
Satine rolled her eyes. She'd preferred being told it could make her feel faint.  
  
She went and sat on the bed, tucking her bong out of sight in her knickers.  
  
"After tonight's exertions you must surely be in need of refreshments, my dear." The Duke, by some odd coincidence headed towards the very table Christian was sitting behind with the bottle of champagne clutched tightly in his little DV paw.  
  
"Don't!" Satine leapt up and began moving around the room in a random manner.  
  
The Duke looked slightly worried and turned back to seek refuge in the champagne. The time had come for drastic action. She grabbed the bong and jumped out in front of him.  
  
"I don't have much coke,." she knelt and peered between his legs at Christian as he whispered the words to her. Which, by the way, is Inappropriate Place For A Conversation #126.  
  
"But, oh, if I did, I'd buy a big bong so we both could smoke." When in doubt, sing. "I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind, that I used it before, or that my friend dropped it on an unclean floor."  
  
Christian backed slowly away. The Duke's eyes tinged. And his mouth. But that was just because he'd been brushing with Aquafresh Three-in-One.  
  
"That makes me very horny." he muttered.  
  
"Doesn't take much, does it?" Satine whispered to herself before adding "It's from Craptacular Craptacular. With you here I finally understand the point of drugs."  
  
"Which drugs are those, my dear?" the Duke asked, just as Christian, still backing away from the CCW and her client, reached the door and stepped round it only to find the Duke's big thuggy manservant on the other side. He closed the door with a bang. Satine leapt onto the bed and pretended to weep. "Oh Duke, don't toy with my addictions! You must know the effect you have on women! You make them want to get stoned before coming within twenty feet of you!"  
  
The DV watched from what was possibly the Worst Hiding Place In The World, bar None.  
  
"Let's make love!" she pulled the Duke down on the bed, gesturing to Christian to leave. But he simply raised one eyebrow in a gesture that said, "Yeah right. If you're getting it on with some possible pervy Duke with a thuggish manservant outside ready to knock you unconscious at any time, in a hippo for God's sake, I want to watch!"  
  
"Fine," Satine muttered. "You're right," she told the Duke.  
  
"Yay! I'm right!" smiled the Duke. "Um.right about what?" he asked Satine.  
  
"We should wait until you've shaved," she replied. "there's a moustache on you that scares the crap outta me. You should leave."  
  
She bundled a confused Duke out of the door then turned to reprimand Christian.  
  
Unfortunately, she fainted right in his arms.  
  
Chances of that, eh?  
  
Meanwhile, up in his tower, Zidler and the other members of the Perve Association had their telescopes trained on the hippo. Together, left hand in the air and right hand down the pants of the person next to them, they chanted the motto, "All for Porn, and Porn for all!" before continuing to look down the telescopes to where it seemed like unconscious Satine and gullible Christian were doing extremely rude things.  
  
Christian moved Satine onto the bed, landing on top of her.  
  
Just then, for the second time that night, who should walk in but.  
  
Dun dun dun!!!  
  
THE DUKE!  
  
A/N: And that, folks, is what we in the business call a cliffhanger. Except some of us who call it "an excuse to stop our lazy asses doing any more work."  
  
Look out for the next chapter coming soon with excessive use of the word "insania!" (Fans of I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here, this one's for you!)  
  
Keep reviewing pleasey pleasey please. And also include your answer to my new question, do you know anyone called Randall and would you say they were odd?  
  
See y'all soon! 


	6. Craptacular Craptacular

A/N: Yes, I am still alive! I did not contract a mysterious disease akin to leprosy/kill anyone and go on the run/spend several weeks thinking I was a llama/attempt to eat a very important document/fight with my duvet and lose. Of course not. That would just be silly. He he. **nervous laughter**

Chapter Five

SO...Way back when, we left our jolly old heroes in a bit of a pickle, didn't we?

It went something like this...

Christian moved Satine onto the bed, landing on top of her.

Just then, for the second time that night, who should walk in but...

Dun dun dun!!!

THE DUKE!

"Sorry, I forgot my socks," he explained, before noticing Christian and Satine, in a VERY compromising position. "Foul play?" he asked cheerfully, in the same manner one might ask, "Another drink?" or "Is this your ostrich?"

"Um...no..." Christian replied nervously.

Satine woke up, wondering what the hell this Randall was doing on top of her. "Not foul play, dearest Duke...it's a...um..."

"Rehearsal!" supplied Christian helpfully.

"Rehearsal!?" hissed Satine.

"I don't think well under pressure," he muttered.

"Oh, ha ha ha," snorted the Duke rather ungracefully. "And who is this?"

"The writer," said Satine, at exactly the same moment as Christian said, "The hooker."

The Duke raised his eyebrows. "Really, you expect me to believe, that inside a hippo, in the arms of another man, on a Tuesday night for Godssakes, you were rehearsing?!"

There was a long pause. Eventually Christian ventured, "Um, what does the fact that it's Tuesday have to do with anything?"

The Duke shrugged. "Question 'em, make 'em slip up," he mumbled to himself.

Satine and Christian started to back away slowly.

"Fine, fine," he said. "Anyway, aren't some random Bohemians meant to turn up about now?"

Christian looked at his watch. "They're always late," he explained. "They should be here right about...now..."

Right on cue, the door burst open and four Mad Bohemians came bursting in cheerfully.

"Hello," said Toulouse. The Duke waved nervously.

"I do hope the harmonica's in tune!" said Lightbulbhead, hitting the piano. Toulouse whispered something to him, and he smiled nervously and said, "Piano, of course, yes! I knew it was a piano!" He laughed nervously.

"So, if you're rehearsing, where's that scary dude? The one with bad hair and too much makeup?" asked the Duke interrogatively.

"What, you? You're here!" said Christian, not really helping the situation.

"There's no need to _bother _Harold," said Satine, who was slightly brighter than Christian.

At that point Zidler fell through the window.

"Bloody hell!" said the Duke. Everyone turned and looked at him. "What?!"

"You're English aristocracy, you're not allowed to swear!" said Christian, scandalised.

"Well, I'm going to, and you can't stop me! Nyah nyah nyah!" said the Duke, before coughing rather embarrassedly. "Uh...sorry..."

"Forget about it, dear Duke," said Zidler affably.

"Consider it forgotten," replied the Duke.

Christian sighed. "I'm bored." (A/N: Me too! Wow! We have so much in common!)

"We should have another song," suggested Zidler.

"But we can't just break randomly into song and expect everyone to know the words and the dance moves!" said Satine.

There was a long silence. Everyone stared at her. She blushed. "Oh yeah..."

"Anyway, about this play..." prompted the Duke.

"What play?" asked Toulouse, after another excruciating silence.

"You know, the one that's crucial to the entire plot of the film and therefore is meant to follow it almost exactly?" the Duke replied.

"Oh, yeah!" said Zidler. "Tell us what it's about, Christian."

There was yet another silence, broken only by the intermittent humming of Lightbulbhead. Then Christian burst out, "It's about Santa!"

"Santa?" questioned the Duke, mockingly. Everyone else just stared at Christian.

"What? I like Santa. If you don't you won't get any presents," he said defensively. "It's about Santa not being able to deliver the presents."

"And it's set in the North Pole!" shrieked Toulouse excitedly.

"The North Pole?" questioned the Duke, mockingly.

"Will you please stop doing that?!" said Satine.

"Sorry."

"IT'S SET IN INDIA!" bellowed Christian. They all turned to look at him. "Else I'm not playing."

"Isn't India a bit hot?" said Argy.

"No," pouted Christian sulkily, "it's perfect. There's an elf," here he looked lovingly at Satine, "the shortest elf in all the world. But the presents are destroyed by an _evil..._uh...present-destroying-machine," (he glared at the Duke) "and the elf has to switch off the evil machine! But on the morning of the switchy-offy-thingy, she meets a present-making-machine, and she falls in love with it!"

A stunned silence greeted this story. "Christian," said Zidler slowly, "she falls in love with a machine?!"

"Yes," said Christian. "And I'll tell my mummy if you're nasty about it."

"Well, we...um...won't be nasty..." said Zidler.

"How's about that song?" asked Satine in a desperate attempt to inject some cheer into the forlorn party. Unfortunately Zidler had to sing...however, he DID try his best.

"Craptacular, Craptacular,

No words that can be printed here

Can describe this travesty

Of artistic literacy!

And don't bring your whole family

There's things the kids don't want to see

And on top of free ice cream..."

They all joined in...

"You'll get to sleep with Miss Satine!

"So inviting

Invites will be sent to all

So happening

Come along, you'll have a ball!

So inviting

Invites will be sent to all

So happening

Come along, you'll have a ball!"

Various Randalls sung the next few lines, interspersed with actions...

"Christmas trees!"

"The First Noel!"

"Santa Claus!"

"A Christmas bell!"

"Fairy lights!"

"and tinsel chains!"

"Pretty elves!"

"Present machines!"

They all joined in again:

"Drunken uncles, drunken aunts,

Drunken father's drunken dance,

Turkey sprouts and Christmas pud...

"Oh, the ingeniousity!

"So inviting

Invites will be sent to all

So happening

Come along, you'll have a ball!

So inviting

Invites will be sent to all

So happening

Come along, you'll have a ball!

"Craptacular, Craptacular

No words that can be printed here

Can describe this travesty

Of artistic literacy!

"There's a worm at the bottom of the garden...

"So inviting

Invites will be sent to all

So happening

Come along, you'll have a ball!

So inviting

Invites will be sent to all

So happening

Come along, you'll have a ball!"

The Duke interrupted. "What happens in the end?"

"The end?" said Christian, confused.

"You know, what happens after the beginning..."

The Bohemians ran off and set up a stage remarkably quickly, ready for Christian to sing...

"The elf and present-making-thing

Are pulled apart by a piece of string

But in the end she hears its clank

And is attracted to a tank..."

"It's a little bit crappy,

this odd-looking bong..."

sang the Duke.

There was a prolonged, silent, "Right....", before the Bohemians once more burst into song.

"So inviting

Invites will be sent to all

So happening

Come along, you'll have a ball!"

Christian came back, soloing once more...

"The present-maker's secret clank

Helps them find the sexy tank

Though the destroyer kills some quails

It is all to no avail..."

"I am the evil present-destroyer...You will not escape!" said Zidler threateningly.

"Nor will your presents!" supplied Satine.

"Exactly..."

"So inviting,

Will make them scream, will make them yell

So happening..."

"And in the end, we ring a bell?" suggested the Duke. His idea was met with another prolonged silence.

"So inviting

Invites will be sent to all

So happening

Come along, you'll have a ball!" ended the Bohemians.

There was a long pause. "Well, what do you think?" said Zidler.

"Well...I think it's rubbish," said the Duke, "but I can see we'll get nowhere unless I say I like it."

They all took this in, then hugged ole Dukie like he'd never been hugged before!

A/N: So, what d'you think? Bad, I know. Pity me, I have lost my muse! He's not in any of his usual haunts...I even checked the airing cupboard...nothing.

Oh well. Next one WILL be up soon, I promise! Promise, promise, promise!

Now, you know what to do, don'tcha? That's it...review...review...review!


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